Spending Time in Skyhold A hawke and Varric friend-fic
by JustAPassingStranger
Summary: A fun glance at the life of Hawke and Varric, and the shit they pulled in skyhold. Which was a lot.


A fun glance at the life of Hawke and Varric, and the shit they pulled in skyhold. Which was a lot.

Chapter 1

Tunics make great gifts.

Hawke had just learned news in Skyhold, the Inquistion lead by the herald had already entered the marshes. The undead were rising from the lake and attacking the villagers and it had something to do with the rifts, because of course it did. She sighed and put down the letter, Varric's words were more lengthy and flowery then that of course. He had sugar coated a heavy chunk of the letter to soften the blow but it was obvious that Varric had gotten injured in a scuffle and was hoping she'd skip past that part in lue of more fanciful descriptions of basically everything else. He'd even included a dragon.

Thats how she knew his "just a little scuffed hawke, probably won't even leave a scar I can boast about later" was more severe then he let on. They had already been gone two weeks, the cheaky little bastard hadn't written to her until the worst of his injures had already almost fully healed and the danger had passed. They were still staying another week in the marshes just to be on the safe side before they were set to head home.

He would probably be grumpy when he came back, he had tried to make it sound exciting, but she could tell the awful smell of rotten eggs and death wafting from the marshes, the soggy boots, the endless black clouds and horrific over abundance of nature was grating on him. The guy was more of a-sunny-day-in-the-city-trying-to-kill-me kinda guy, he didn't do well with the leafy stuff. The only dirt he liked was the kind of questionable grime that stuck to peoples faces after they had visted or possibly just thought of lowtown, and that kind of grime didn't go squish and try to eat your boots. She would have to think of something to cheer him up with when he got back.

The next letter was from her third most lovable rouge, the second being Varric, and the first being herself of course. It had come with a large crate that had been hauled to her room. She had been tempted to open it at the front gates when she first learned of it, but knowing isebela, she thought better of it and waited until she had hauled the thing back to her room. She glanced to the seal, it had been resealed properly, but it was obvious the scouts were going through her mail again. It was probably Isebela's fault for writing her such... Descriptive... tales of her many adventures. She had caught quite a few of them giggling, huddled in a circle, passing around a well worn copy of one of her more.. Steamy letters, off in one of unused rooms in the fortresses' cellar.

This one had all the juicy details she had expected from her pirate captain with an aside that caught her attention,

'The slavers were wearing leather straps over their nipples, leather! Anyways, my lot killed them all, and freed the slaves left on the VASTLY inferior ship. They were 'pretending' to be trades ship carrying only silk tunics and fancy cheese to Tevinter, while their more questionable cargo stayed under deck. The bastards. I've givin all the food the all the free'd slaves and everyones got a brand new tunic to boot, but theres more here then templars at a brothel, so I'm sending the rest to you.

Sending you hugs and big smooches across the ocean.

\- Your Captain, Isebela

PS. Is it true what they say about Quinari? I heard they have absolutely monsterous-'

Hawke put down the letter quickly, and cleared her throat, stuffing it in a drawer in her room for re-reading later before turning and facing the crate before her. A shipment of tunics? She'd had stranger things sent to her, this was pretty mild compared to some of her other.. Gifts. she took a moment to rummage theough her belongings before finding her *least* favourite dagger, and pryed open the lid.

There were... Tunics, white, silky tunics with tiny decorative curling embossing, dozens and dozens of them, folded neatly in row after row. She could wear nothing but white tunics for months on end and not get through them all. She lifted one up, its was silky, light, it felt like she was barely holding anything at all, it looked as if it'd go slightly past her belt in length, just enough that she almost forgo wearing pants if she was so inclined, but not quite.

She was tempted to put it on, and was just about to do just that, before she remembered about assassins. Orlais was really weird and obtuse about their fancy ridiculously over the top murder plans, and acording to fenris, Tevinter was JUST as sneaky, if not more. It'd probably be really embarrassing to be murdered by a poisonous shirt, after coming all the way to skyhold, so Hawke did the only reasonable thing she could think of and licked it.

After not dropping dead after a few very uncertain, dangerous minutes of standing still in her own bedroom, she ran her fingers down the collar and the hem, and, not finding any secrect poison spikes or evil Tevinter who-whatsits, she tried it on.

It felt great, like silky water, spilling off her shoulders and chest. She was sure it would feel even better without her ever functional undergarment that held up the fatty lumps on her chest she had affectionately named "Grace" and "Danger" but she resisted. There were children here at skyhold for goodness sake! Well.. Ok, there was Cullen, he sort of counted, and Varric was pretty much fathering Cole at this point, and he was kind of like a weird assassin spirt child, so that probably counted.

she checked herself in the mirror, it didnt look too bad, a bit under-armoured for her tastes-oh ho ho whats THIS? She checked herself in the cloth again with closer scrutiny, the little spit mark she had left when she had so professionally checked the cloth was now basically see through. "...Isebela..."

she felt suddenly lucky she had not found this fact out, come the first rainstorm instead. Still they were nice shirts, but what could she... The idea struck like a sledgehammer to her inspiration. She knew EXACTLY what she was going to do with the tunics. She counted the coins in her pouch, put on her best shit eating grin and got to work.

A week quickly passed from then, and The Herald of Andraste and the rightly crew of inquistion mistfits could be seen in sight tagging along in behind, on their way to skyhold, Varric and Dorian, having lost the effort of bitching about the hight half way up, in lue of still having breath left to make the hike.

The inquisitor had passed the main gate with a massive bundle of suplies strapped to their back, intent on getting to the market stall, before the exicted holler could be heard across skyhold.

"VAAAAARIIIICCC!"

The shout rang through the halls. Blackwall had just enough time to smartly step out of the way before a spritely woman crashed down from somewhere above them, rolling her fall before getting back up and into a sprint. Tackling the dwarf in a running hug, nearly bowling him over in the process.

Hawke had the dwarf in a near death grip, his arms flailing wildly before settling for thumping hawkes back in desperate patting motions. Dorian looked on amused and with the slightest touch of jealousy, "How come I don't have that sort of fan fare when *I* returned to skyhold?"

Blackwall just grinned, "A greeting like that, and I'd doubt any of the men would want to leave."

Dorian just snorted, before joining blackwall and the herald farther into the keep. "Or be signed up to leave, just for the sake of coming back again. Are you coming Varric?"

Varric waved his arms around dismissively before saying something incomprehensible in the folds of fabric smothering him. Dorian laughed and walked off to join the others.

He pulled away after they had gone, managing to untangle himself from her grasp after a few moments. He'd gotten scorched a few times by some not-so-friendly mages on the way back and was amused to see some of the ashy soot had gotten smeared on her white tunic where his face had been, it looked sort of like a squished pumpkin if he squinted. He glanced back up at her expectant face and gave a short laugh, he was exaughted, but happy to see her. "Maker Hawke, we we're only gone a few weeks at most, You're as bouncy as daisy with people at the door. Miss me already?"

He caught a hint of a wince as he spoke but it was gone as fast as it had shown, and he quickly doubted himself if he had seen it at all.

She gave him a look with an air of friendly overplayed innocence, clutching her chest like an over dramatic orlisian."Oh, undoubtedly Varric, I wept into my pillow only several times through out the night, missing dearly the fine furry chest which would whisper sweet nothings from those masculine curls. Who wouldnt miss such a dashing dwarf like yourself?" The grinning glint in her eye was unmistakable. Coupled with her lack of armour, it could only mean one thing. She was up to something and whatever it was, it promised to be Fun.

Granted, with Hawke, 'Fun' could mean anything from seeking out creepy demonic tomes in damp caves and destroying them for funsies, or stealing templar undergarments to decorate the chantry board with for the delight of the early morning crowd. Granted, they mainly targeted Cullen, but watching the general public rush to the chantry as a templar made a mad dash to secure his belongings pinned neatly up to the chantry board with little heart shaped pins made mornings so much more enjoyable for everyone else.

Some of his best stories came after seeing that glint he mused, his fingers itched to write out of shear memory it. "Crazy people, Thats who. i'll be sure to keep my manly chest near by to sooth the hysteria, what can I say? it's a tough job being this handsome." He looked her over before he gave her a theatrical sigh, stepping back. "Alright Hawke, I'll bite. Whats with the top?"

Hawkes grin got impossibly wider. "Why Varric" she said, mocking the edge of offended, "Can't a girl walk around in perfectly normal clothes, without her intentions being questioned? perhaps I'm learning fashion."

Varric burst into laughter at that. "Hawke. You collected seventy five pairs of torn trousers out of crates in low town alone, and kept the ones you couldnt pawn off on everybody stuffed in your top drawer, and then *kept collecting them*. You tried to convince the Valeimonts that battle armour was *perfectly* acceptable thing to wear to their ball, and tied a ribbon to it, called it fashion and tried to get in."

"I did actually get in you know."

Varric squinted at her."Have you considered the possibility that you were a merchant dwarf in a past life hawke?"

Hawke made a face back, "Too boring"

"Not the way I think you'd run it"

That seemed to give hawke pause for consideration for a moment, before nodding slowly "yeeees... " she conceded, "more dragons, definately." With that, she seemingly gave up the train of thought and went back to the idea of the hour instead with a wide grin. "I'm holding a wet tunic contest."

Varric sputtered red, the surprise U-turn In the conversation throwing him off balance for a moment. "Shit. What, here? Maker Hawke, were on the top of an icy cold mountain that eats icecubes for breakfast with nothing around for miles, who did you- I don't even think Tiny OWNS a shirt. Who on earth did you talk into joining /that/?" He looked around them suspicously, the entrance of skyhold was mostly empty, except for some suddenly interested guards, very deliberately investgating the fasinating nature of their fingernails, and suddenly vastly enthralling surrounding environment, with a furious passion.

The wet tunic contest was going to be news all over skyhold before nightfall, he just knew it. Guards gossiped harder then old washer women. "Come on, lets head to the pub instead, we'll talk there."

The pub was more empty then he was used to back at the hanged man, cleaner too. It was a little after lunch, not late enough that the evening crowd had started to pile in but not so early that the lunch crowd had lingered around, so it was relatively empty. A few of Tiny's chargers were milling around here and there, but as far as he could tell, they pretty much lived here and he could appricate the sentiment.

He buckled down at one of the more secluded tables."Alright Hawke. Who'd you talk into this competition, whats the starting betting range and how in andrastes flaming ass did you manage it? I want details." He leaned in at the table and when the waiter came around, ordered himself a suspiciously not bad-tasting sandwhich, a vaugely reccognizeable soup, and a mug of ale for the both of them. The place had a great cook, with some quality ingredients. Varric didn't trust it for a moment, nothing what that good without a catch. the catch could be the horrible battle they'd all get into trying to stop the sky from being ripped in two and the world being over run by demons, but it never hurt to be careful, giving his soup a careful sniff when it arrived. His stomache growled in protest and he scooped up a mouthful in earnest.

Hawke on the other side of the table looked absolutely pleased with herself, preening with pride like an excitable bird. "I ordered the tunics ages ago, theyre silky and white, I think theyre supposed to be night gowns. The guy I delt with had a huge surpluses of the stuff that wasn't going to make it to Tevinter, I was just going to give it to the inquistion troops here, as a kinda.. Morale boost or whatever, but..." She smiled wickedly, "Then i found out what It looks like wet."

Varric felt himself grin, a story was writing itself in his head already. 'Inquistion troops, allocated seductive white nighties.' That shit wrote itself.

Isabela would most certainly aprove.

Hawke continued after she took a happy pull of her ale, "So naturally, I'm going to hold a wet tunic contest. I've talked most of the lady inquistion scouts to join in already, some of the troops too." She waggled her eyebrows, in what she probably thought was a seductive manner. "Iron bull and signed up before he even knew there was a prize. Though I don't know how the hell I'm going to clothe that giant yet. 15 Gold coins to the winner, five gold for second place, two for third, and everyone gets to keep their tunic after, because I am a bleeding heart of goodness."

"Didn't you say you were going to gift them to the inquistion anyways?"

"They don't know that."

Varric tried to think of the Seeker in the wet tunic competition, before his mind freaked out and gave up out of self preservation. "Who else?"

"Dennit said no-"

"You asked The Horse Master?!"

"- but I think I'll get a tentative yes out of blackwall, after using a bit of my charms, I'll have to ask him after this. Oooh I bet Bull could ask Dorian for me. Cullens, so far denied all my requests, even after I threatened to hide eggs all over his office, but I'm still holding out. The grumpy old elf guy said no before I even asked him! Fenris's chest was better then his scrawny torso anyways. Most of Iron bulls crews on board, whats his face, Krem, said he wanted to judge, oh! Sera's gunna judge too, she was really happy about that."

"I bet she was."

" I could invite the herald, but I figure thats kind of unfair, everyone would probably vote for them, then Andraste would start me on fire and we'd loose a perfectly beautiful me. Also lilanna and josephine might murder me, and getting the rage of those two terrify me. In.. A good way, I think." She reached over and took a big chomp of varrics sandwich, talking through bites " bithivienne and Cole are out, for obthvious reasons"

Varric tried to imagine the icy cold elegant death glare from vivenne, and the image of Cole surrounded by a group of people in wet dripping tunics, as he read out their minds loud and clear to the public without a filter. He grimaced. "I see your point."

"Naturally, I'm making you the last judge, I can't have you in the competition you'd win first second and third in one go. Besides, threes a good number for judges, so I think I'll stick with that."

His eyebrows raised, "Three? What are you going to be?"

She brushed off the front of her tunic in a gesture, smearing the soot around from earlier, then actually making any progress cleaning it. Now it looked more like a nug laying sideways, the smear above it, could be a festive hat. "Why I'll be joining the competition of course!"

Varric choked on his drink.

Chapter something or other

Flirting with Blackwall

The last thing blackwall expected that night, was the bouncy happy face of the slayer of the Airishok, Champion of Kirkwall, and killer of dragons, sitting pretty in a white tunic on his work desk in the stables, smiling at him by the fire light.

"I...greetings. I uh, did not expect you here." He fumbled with his words as he glanced around for the short trouble maker and his crossbow. The two were notorious for their pranks, though he had not been subject to them himself he was aware of thier infamy. Plus, the woman grinned like a wolf. It was making him nervous. Even without her armour she was dangerous creature. She looked softer, less threatening with it gone, having switched out her typical spikey attire for some mild mannered pants and a white tunic but he had no doubts of the outcome if she was so inclined.

"Thats okay!" She chirped in reassurance. She made no effort to move her ass from his workbench.

"... I.. Right." He coughed, looking around. Going to sleep seemed like a good excuse, he'd use that. "I'll just be.."

"-isnt that wool you wear scratchy?"

Blackwall looked surprised for a moment before looking down at his own attire, his clothes were made to be under armour, to absorb the impact. He didnt really consider it otherwise, it was all he wore inside the keep. "You.. Get used to it I suppose, its fine."

"Is that all you own?"

Blackwall frowned, "I'm a warden. I don't need of many things."

"Well its in well need of a wash, and I get itchy just looking at it. How about I give you a tunic to wear instead?"

Blackwall crossed his arms, "I /like/ my wooly undercoat."

"Well why not have both? It's siiilk~" her voice took on a singy song like tone, as she slipped off of the table, and padded towards him, like a feline towards her prey. She already a breath away from him, before he had time to think. Her lips close to his cheek. his eyebrows shot up as she slipped a hand down to take hold of his wrist and guide his hand up, feeling an incredible surge of disappointment when she placed his hand on her shoulder instead. "Feel that?" She whispered, the heat of her breath warming his cheek. He could feel his heart beat in his chest. "Thats quality."

She pulled back a few inches. "Wanna try it on?"

Blackwall sputted but didnt pull away as he protested. "m-my lady, we've only just met. You're the Champion of Kirkwall, surely-"

-"I don't mind." She purred. "Take off that shirt."

His breath hitched, and his half hearted resolve crumbled embarrassingly quickly under her predatory gaze. he fumbled with his coat before letting his chest lie bare in the firelight.

She gave him and interested look, her eyes pausing on his chest and then his arms. Mulling something over in her mind before giving him a sharp nod. "should fit nicely, its on the table for you, try it on. You have beautiful pecs."

It took blackwall a moment to realize she'd uttered a request, he hadn't even noticed the folded white cloth on the desk behind her when she walked over. Disappointed but a bit relieved she hadn't actually ment the one she was currently wearing, the compliment didn't even register. He had been willing to take her shirt from her, about a size too small, and put it on himself, from voice alone. In the middle of the stables, outside, in the keep, at night. As well as willing to do.. Other things. In the middle of the stables, outside, in the keep, at night.

He knew she wasn't in charge of the inquistion, but she had the voice of a commander. Her orders dripped leadership even casual ones, and he felt himself obeying out of shear primal instinct alone. He was embarrassingly attracted to that in a woman, and well.. When one shows up on his work bench and starts telling him to take off his clothes,

"Blackwall? The tunics on the desk."

"Hm? Oh. Sorry my lady, right away." He pulled himself from his thoughts enough to walk himself over to the table and grab the cloth, it felt slippery in his hands, and he suddenly felt self conscious on how rough his hands were, they were tough and raggedy from years of use and the silk caught on roughness of his palms more then once as he pulled the tunic over his head. He had forgotten what luxury had felt like compared to the scratchy wools of his coat. Perhaps if he wore this between him and his wools..

"Feels nice huh?"

Blackwall did his best to arrange his face to a suspicious glower, he suspected he had failed miserably. "what do you want for it? .. I have no coin in which to pay." His eyes lingered on her chest before he glanced up at her face, and then to his carving tools on the table, before meeting her eyes once more. "I.. Could.. Carve you something perhaps?"

She blinked, suddenly this was more interesting then trying to talk him into joining the wet tunic competition, "What, like a dragon?" She had perked up immediately, swave charm forgotten for the time twittered in excitement.

"I.. Could try? I mostly do griffins.." Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He should of offered something else, the mood the girl had crafted was dying but he was still held taunt like a bowstring from her soft words, and hot breath. should he of offered her a kiss? Can you buy a tunic with roses? Makers balls. It had been ages since he had tried his hands at romance. "But I'm good with my hands" he offered in a vain attempt to sway her away from thoughts of wooden dragons, "they're talented at.. Many things."

Hawke seemed to consider this, biting her lip as she thought it through. "Mmm tempting, but actually I just wanted you to stand being doused in water, and be able to stand the cold for a bit for a competition I'm holding. the winner receives 15 gold sovereigns, but all you have to do, is compete and the tunic is yours." She gave him a smile that ran shivers up his back, "I'll be competing too. Join me?"

"A test of endurance?"

"Among other things, so you'll come?"

Blackwall considered it. It sounded simple enough. He would of likely joined anyways to keep out the boredom and to keep Cassandra from using him as a sparring partner, though at this point 'meaty training dummy' was more falling into his self description now-a-days, he nodded.

Hawke seemed pleased with the answer but stopped him before he could take off the garment to hand it back. "Keep it. Just make sure to join when the time comes." She paused. "If you can seriously carve a dragon, I'll pay good coin for it you know. It'd be fun to know what.. Other things, your hands are good for." She threw him another predatory grin in the firelight and sauntered off into the dark.

It was only after morning had broke the following day, did he realize he had been bribed with a tunic to join in to one of the more frivilous bar competitions he'd known because a pretty young thing had told him to.

Balls it was going to be a long day.

Hawke was feeling rather pleased with herself. Lilianna had found out immediately of course, and gave the contest her full blessing, Josephine had tried and failed to look anything but excited at the prospect, and had quite a few metal bath tins into sky hold to catch the water for the event today. Bull had convinced Dorian to join up, without any effort on her part, AND she had obtained a silk table cloth to fashion a sort of toga for the giant to wear so he could participate too.

Everything was set up for a night of eating, drinking, and drenched eyecandy, she'd even talked the singquistion into finding a happy janty with the bard for the event. She just needed to grab some eggs to fill cullens rooms with. His place was pretty bare, but the shelf and desk held plenty of promise. She had learned some neat little tricks about camouflage and was excited to try them out, and so pleased that she had thought of everything when she smashed face first into Cassandra pentagast.

"Champion! I did not see you there. Are you alright? Skyhold is hardly the place to drop ones guard."

Hawke rubbed her nose, it smarted. Cassandra was in full gear, walking into her was like walking into a wall of solid steel. "What? Oh, yeah, I get my face smashed in plenty of times, I've started counting the days im not hit bruised or injured instead, so far my day counts been zero for the last couple years, but I'll let you know when that changes." She answered absentmindedly in full snark, she always joked when she was nervous. She joked when she wasn't nervous too but even more so when she was. Varric had told her the girl was a big fan of hers, but she was fairly certain it had been a farce.

Varric laughed, he felt more relaxed around Hawke. Two rouges who had seen Kirkwall burn, who had shouldered the burdens and had lived through it all. If he was being honest to himself, it was more because Hawke was /hawke/. He had found a companion among the fredelden refugees that had piled into his city, a buisness partner for the deep roads and to soothe his brothers whining and before he had known it, a friend for life.

And then hawke backflipped into the sky and turned into the dragon she always wanted to be.

And varric wept cause it was the coolest fucking thing he had ever seen in his life.


End file.
